


A Winter Ball

by EatSleep



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Abuse, Cinderella Elements, Eventual Romance, F/M, Fluff and Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-20
Updated: 2019-05-26
Packaged: 2020-03-08 17:20:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18899164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EatSleep/pseuds/EatSleep
Summary: Sansa and Daenerys are servants to Lord Ramsay. His cruel hand pushes them to sneak off one night to join the Ball in the nearby Kingdom. Thanks to a fairy godmother, they’re given a chance to spend one night away from their owner. At the Ball they meet two men who change their lives forever.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Adding some Daenerys and Sansa appreciation into a fic. Obviously, this is Cinderella inspired, but a lot less kid friendly than the Disney version.

**Chapter One: Lord Ramsay Bolton.**

Daenerys grabbed the knife from the wooden counter with a grunt. She stood over Sansa’s body in a protective stance. The poor girl’s pale face was plastered in blood, and it was starting to pool around Daenerys’ feet.

“Stay back!” she yelled at Ramsay Bolton.

“What do you plan on doing with that? Kill me perhaps?” He laughed. “You won’t get close enough to touch me.”

The knife trembled in her sweaty hands.

It had been a normal morning in the manor, until Lord Bolton awoke in a foul mood. Daenerys and Sansa knew well enough to stay out of his way when he was in one of his moods. They’d been on the receiving end of plenty of punches and objects to the head. However, he had an obsession with Sansa regardless of his mood being foul or not.

They’d been washing dishes in the kitchen when he came storming in. Before they could move out of his way, he grabbed the back of Sansa’s long hair and tossed her against the table. He punched her repeatedly, and Daenerys had pulled at his shoulders only to be pushed against the basin, which knocked the air from her lungs.

Ramsay then turned away from Sansa to grab and iron pot, and he smashed it over her head knocking her out. Daenerys gathered her senses and pushed him away from Sansa, then grabbed the knife.

Leading her to their little stand-off in the kitchen.

Ramsay tilted his head with a sickening smile. “Try and stab me, blondie.”

Her grip tightened around the knife at the sound of his nickname for her. She hated it with a passion. His words haunted her dreams and twisted them into nightmares, and they did the same to Sansa.

The pair shared a small room together that only fit one bed in, so they had to curl up against each other to keep warm. The itchy blanket wasn’t enough to cover them both, and most nights, Sansa gave Daenerys the blanket claiming that she wasn’t cold. Yet, as they lay next to one another, she could feel the cold surrounding her body.

They were the only servants in the manor that were female. Ramsay didn’t enjoy tormenting the men, so they got to walk around the manor without a care in the world. Yet, Daenerys and Sansa spent their whole time looking over their shoulders. They always tried to do each chore together just incase, unfortunately that wasn’t always possible.

The kitchen door opened slowly, and in walked one of the male servants. “Lord Bolton, an important message from Winterfell has arrived.”

“It’s your lucky day, blondie. See to it that she’s up and moving by the afternoon,” he followed the servant from the kitchen, and Daenerys waited until his footsteps had disappeared until she threw herself to the floor next to Sansa.

“Open your eyes,” she slowly rolled her over. “Please, Sansa.” She could see that she was still breathing but she needed to do something to stop the blood.

The door that led out into the gardens opened, and in walked the stable boy, Podrick. His eyes widened as he observed the scene.

“Get me some cloth!” She yelled at him, and he scrambled to gather the thing she needed.

The poor boy had only been at the manor for a few days. Daenerys has long stopped warning the newcomers of Lord Bolton’s temper, because it never affected them. Only Sansa and Daenerys.

“What happened?” His hands shook as he handed her the cloth. 

“Lord Bolton,” she seethed through gritted teeth. “Welcome to Hell, Podrick.”

And so the day passed on by with Daenerys returning to check on Sansa in their little room. She stayed bundled in the sheets, hidden away from Lord Bolton. Daenerys did double the chores while keeping an eye on Sansa’s painful head wound.

The days turned to two weeks by the time Sansa could stand properly without support, but the large gash on her head still looked sore. She didn’t speak much after the attack, however, she was quick to scurry when Lord Bolton approached.

Daenerys watched on with a sad look on her face, then held Sansa tight each night. She wasn’t sure how long Sansa was going to last under Lord Bolton’s rough hand, and if the day ever came where she was close to death, she was certain she would follow.

The pair had a lot in common. Not only were they best friends, they had the same upbringing. Both of them orphans, left unwanted by their parents, and abandoned the moment they came of age. Daenerys had been sold as a servant to a friendly Lord at first, but the moment Lord Bolton arrived, he’d offered her Master a higher price than he had paid, so off she went with him.

A year after being at the manor, a fragile Sansa arrived. Her hair so fiery and bright that Daenerys felt obliged to protect her; it turned out that her fiery hair matched her temper. Sansa would always stand up for herself when Lord Bolton abused her, but after countless amounts of slaps to the face, she stopped fighting back.

That brought them to today, the day of a Ball in the Kingdom of Winterfell. Daenerys had grown up in a small village near Winterfell all her life, but it wasn’t classed as being a part of it, more of a neglected in between that no one ruled. However, that land was soon overrun after she was sold to someone in the Kingdom of Highgarden. When Lord Bolton returned her to the land ruled by no one, she soon discovered that it was he who now ruled.

Daenerys had never been beyond Highgarden or Lord Bolton’s land, but she’d heard stories of the beautiful palace of Winterfell. Neither had Sansa been to Winterfell, but she didn’t have the want to go and visit it. She’d only ever been to Dorne and Lord Bolton’s land.

“We can relax tonight,” said Daenerys with a smile. “Let’s steal some food from the pantry and have a feast in our room.”

Sansa’s pale face turned towards her while they stood in front of the well. “He’ll find out.”

“No he won’t,” Daenerys placed a hand on her arm. “And if he does, I’ll own up to it and accept my punishment. Please, Sansa, he rarely leaves for an overnight trip.”

“I’m tired,” said Sansa.

“We’ll get some undisturbed rest as well,” Daenerys continued to work the wheel to bring back up the bucket of water. “We deserve it.”

Sansa stayed quiet for a while. Daenerys knew that she had to be there for Sansa, because the young woman next to her would do the same for her. However, it was hard to watch Sansa sink into her shell.

“We should run away,” Sansa picked up the basket of clothes and placed it on the edge of the well.

Daenerys laughed. “And where would we go?”

“Far away from here.”

“That doesn’t answer my question,” she took the bucket of water from the hook and placed it on the grass. “We’d die on the road.”

“Better than this life,” she looked back at the manor.

Daenerys sighed. “It’ll get better.”

“I wish I could be as hopeful as you.”

They walked over to the large basin, where Daenerys poured the final amount of water. The pair got to work on washing the dirty clothes. They worked together without having to communicate who did what; every move had been practised and perfected over their many years together.  

“I wish we could visit Winterfell,” Daenerys said.

“Why? It’s full of rich people who have known no hardship,” Sansa violently scrubbed at a stain on a tunic.

“That’s not a fair assumption. There are probably people there who have fought in wars, people who have suffered under cruel hands—“

“Just because you keep saying these hopeful things doesn’t mean they are going to come true,” Sansa rubbed her nose. “We’re going to die here if we don’t leave.”

“Stop being so negative!” Daenerys snapped. “You have no idea what might happen—“ Sansa flinched away from her, and Daenerys’ heart broke. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to shout.”

Sansa gave her a longing look, and when she saw the tears in her eyes, she moved to comfort her. However, Sansa got to her feet and headed inside the manor.

Daenerys spent the rest of the day keeping her distance from Sansa. She made sure to keep a close eye on her just incase Lord Bolton decided he wanted some amusement before he left.

She knew that Sansa had to work some things out in her mind, but it didn’t ease the pain she felt when she looked at her dear friend. By the end of the day, when night began to fall, Sansa appeared at her side to watch Lord Bolton leave in his carriage.

Daenerys grabbed her cold hand in her warm one, and led her to their tiny abode. She disappeared to the kitchen to grab some food, and the pair tucked themselves in bed, talking about the little things.

Silence soon fell over the manor, and slumber pulled them closer together so they could bundle themselves under the rough blanket.

That was until the sound of a bell came from outside. Sansa awoke first with a frightened scream, and Daenerys pulled out the knife she’d hidden beneath their pillow.

“How long have you had that?” Sansa gasped.

“Since he attacked you in the kitchen.”

“You can’t let him see that you have that.”

“He won’t find out, unless he’s on the receiving end of it,” she said. “Come along now, let’s find out what that noise was.”

It wasn’t uncommon for people to wander onto Lord Bolton’s land. Most of them met a horrific demise. Thankfully, this intruder would be safe and able to live another day.

Daenerys grabbed Sansa’s hand and guided her down the stairs. She was lightheaded from a long day standing on her feet with a throbbing head. Daenerys had applied salve to her wound around supper, but it looked like it needed something stronger.

They headed to the kitchen and walked out the back door. There was no one out there as far as she could tell, but the tinkling of a bell continued to ring.

Suddenly, a white bunny broke out from the trees with a silver bell around its neck. “Well, hello there beautiful—“

Daenerys was thrown back by the sheer force of magic. A beautiful, red-haired woman replaced the bell clad bunny, and stood before them with a red-lipped smile on her face.

“I am the magnificent Red Woman, here to serve you as you wish—I’m terribly sorry, my dear.”

The lovely woman in her magnificent gown, helped Daenerys to her feet. “I’m still a bit rusty on the revealing part of my job.”

Just as Daenerys got to her feet, Sansa hit the ground in shock. She quickly shook Sansa awake and cradled the side of her reopened wound. “Are you all right?”

“My head…” she groaned.

“I’m so sorry,” the red woman said. “This is supposed to be my first day.”

“First day at what?” Daenerys supported Sansa to her feet.

“First day at giving out wishes!”

Sansa broke out into hysterical laughter.


	2. Chapter Two: Sansa & Ser Sandor Clegane

**Chapter Two:**

**Sansa & Ser Sandor Clegane.**

The red woman stared on in confusion, and Daenerys didn’t blame her. Sansa continued to laugh, gripping her sides as if to contain her hysterics.  _ Surely it wasn’t that funny? _

“Sansa,” Daenerys chided. “Don’t be rude.”

Sansa started to gain control of her laughter, and finally looked at the magical woman in front of them. “This is a joke — this has to be a joke!”

“I can assure you, my dear, I’m not joking with you,” the Red Woman pulled out a long staff with a large gem on top. “Now, shall we begin?”

“Begin?” Daenerys asked.

“How do you girls feel about going to a Ball?”

Daenerys almost squealed like an infatuated maiden. “In Winterfell?”

The Red Woman smiled.

“We’d love to, right Sansa?” she turned to look at her ginger-haired friend who seemed reluctant to say anything. “It will be fun.”

“Lord Bolton’s there.”

“Don’t worry about such trivial things,” the woman said. “He won’t recognise you. It’s a masquerade ball, and I’ll put a special spell on your masks so he cannot remember you.”

“Sansa, we’ll be able to see what a real Kingdom looks like,” Daenerys grabbed her hand. “It’s just for one night.”

“Or we could just wish for her to take us away?”

“Please, Sansa,” Daenerys pleaded with her. Going to a Ball was a dream come true for her. She’d always wanted to know the way a castle worked; the way royalty talked; and the way the occupants worked. It had been her dream ever since being an orphan.

She could tell that Sansa didn’t trust the woman before them, and Daenerys didn’t blame her for being weary of her.  _ Sansa doesn’t like unfamiliar faces, it’s just another person that she cannot trust. _

“Fine,” Sansa grumbled. “Let’s go.”

“Thank-you,” Daenerys kissed her cheek then turned back to the woman. “So what happens now?”

And so, madness followed.

Sansa was quick to hide behind Daenerys whenever the witch produced sparks of magic. Whereas, Daenerys stared on in fascination.  _ Who wouldn’t be enchanted by such a magical sight? _

A carriage appeared in front of them supported by white horses. The space around them glowed golden by fireflies, and before she knew it, her distressed rags were being transformed. A blue gown appeared on her body. It sparkled in the moonlight and it was soft as silk against her skin.

The bath she’d last had was quite a while ago, but all the remains of dirt had vanished from her arms and nails, and her hair fell down her back in a variety of braids that twisted around her crown.

_ I feel like a princess. _

Daenerys glanced back at Sansa. Her eyes widened in awe. Her rags had transformed into a red, silk gown. It fell gently around her small curves, and the skirt lay against her thighs in a river of red. The cut had disappeared from her head, and she could see the instant relief Sansa felt as the pain left her body. Her hair cascaded down her back in large curls that framed her narrow face, flushing against her tinged skin.

“Oh!” The Red Woman gasped. “You two look adorable.”

Daenerys blushed. “Thank-you, I’ve never owned a dress like this.”

“I’m afraid you won’t own it for long,” she explained. “When the bells ring, it means you must return here where everything will return to normal.”

“Oh,” Daenerys smiled sadly. “At least I get to wear such a beautiful gown at least once in my life.”

“Here are your masks,” she handed Daenerys a silver mask and Sansa a black one. “Enjoy this Ball. Dance with whoever you please or just watch from afar. This is your chance to experience a different sort of life. However, don’t give anyone your real names, just incase someone tries to come looking for you afterwards.”

“OK,” Daenerys couldn’t stop herself from flinging about her large skirt. She couldn’t wait to dance around the ballroom. “I’ll introduce myself as Dany. What about you, Sansa?”

She shrugged in response.

“You should go as Red.”

“No one will believe that,” she said. “I’ll go as...Cat.”

“Cat,” the Red Woman hummed. “It suits you.”

Sansa blushed. “Thank-you.”

The pair weren’t used to receiving compliments from other people. Yes, they called one another beautiful, but it was different when your best friend said that to you.

“Are you ladies ready?”

Daenerys grabbed Sansa’s hand. “Yes!”

They were rushed into the carriage by the witch, and Daenerys chuckled when she struggled to fit in her large gown. Sansa even managed to smile at her predicament. And so, the Red Woman bid them goodbye with a final reminder to leave when the bells rang.

Daenerys watched the world pass them by as they got closer to Winterfell. Excitement twisted at her insides, and she could hardly sit still. She finally looked away from the window at Sansa, who looked sad.

“What’s wrong?”

Sansa looked up at her. “I’m just...scared.”

Daenerys grabbed her hand with a smile. “Why?”

“That this is all a dream and I’m going to wake up on the kitchen floor with Lord Bolton on top of me.”

“Sansa,” she awkwardly leant over and hugged her. “I can assure you this is very real,” she kissed her forehead. “Let’s enjoy ourselves for the first time ever! I can dance the night away and you can explore the castle.”

Daenerys knew how much Sansa enjoyed reading, but most of her books were hidden beneath their tiny bed out of Lord Bolton’s reach. “Can you imagine how big the library is there?”

This caused her to smile. “Big. I hope.”

“There’s only one way to find out.”

They soon arrived at the open gates, and joined the long line of carriages waiting to pull up in the courtyard. It gave them a chance to take in the streets of Winterfell. Sansa finally joined Daenerys at the window, and they both pointed at the architecture and the lovely children who passed by amidst their celebrations.

Sansa eventually relaxed by her side, and started to laugh at Daenerys’ ridiculous jokes. They were in line for quite a while, but they soon arrived by a magnificent fountain that looked like it was spurting crystals instead of water. A man opened up the door and held out his gloved hand. Daenerys led the way so Sansa knew it was safe, and she turned to look at her beautiful friend coming out of the silver carriage.

The cart moved on, and she glanced in time to see no one had been leading the horses, yet the guards around them didn’t pay it any attention.  _ I love magic.  _ Her smile widened and she linked her arm with Sansa’s.

“Come on, Cat, let’s have the best night of our lives.”

* * *

**Sansa.**

She had to admit, she couldn’t believe this was happening. Never in her life had she owned such a soft gown, especially one made of silk. She had little love for her body, but she felt comfortable with the way the gown fell on her. None of it made her recall the twisted things Lord Bolton would say to her about her features.

Happiness. That’s what she felt, and she’s felt little these past years.

Sansa glanced up at her best friend with a blush. She was so lucky to have her here tonight. They would get to enjoy this experience together, and she couldn’t wait to see what adventures Daenerys would get up to. Sansa wouldn’t be getting too involved with the people, she was happy to watch from afar. Perhaps she’d try some royal food?

_ Daenerys and I are only given leftovers, and most of the time, Lord Bolton makes sure to eat every last crumb. _

They walked into the castle with the other Lords and Ladies. Sansa didn’t care much for the lavish decorations, however, she did like the paintings that lined the walls. Some of them were ten times bigger than her, and she wished she could see someone paint such a large canvas.

_ What a lovely life to live...I wish I could have such a life. _

The doors to the ballroom came into view, and Daenerys almost pulled her over in her haste to get there. They walked down the small set of stairs that came to a grand staircase. Sansa paused at the sight of so many people.

At the far end of the room opposite them, sat the royal family of Winterfell. People danced around others, singing and cheering to the songs. Sansa suddenly felt nervous; she wanted to run far away from Winterfell and forget she ever came here. She could see people walking our large glass doors to the balconies, and she knew that would be where she stayed until the bell rang.

Daenerys started to pull her again, but Sansa refused to budge. “What is it?”

“Go and have fun,” Sansa said. “I’ll meet you again when we have to leave.”

Daenerys squeaked in response and kissed her cheek. “Thank-you!” she took off running down the staircase, and Sansa watched her with a small smile.  _ I’m glad she’s happy.  _ Her feet began to ache as she walked down the stairs. She wasn’t used to wearing a heeled shoe, thankfully, she didn’t have to deal with the ache from the cut on her forehead.  _ I felt for it, and it’s gone.  _ She knew that it would return when the magic disappeared.

She made her way through the crowd of people, and out of the glass doors. The balcony was fairly large, which meant she could move away from all the people and relax. She disappeared into the far corner and sat on the concrete fence that surrounded the cobblestone balcony.

Sansa sighed in relief and stared up at the full moon.  _ Peace and quiet. _

“What is a fair maiden doing out here alone?”

A chill shot up her spine. He spoke in the leery way Lord Bolton did, however he looked nothing like the scruffy Lord. No, this man was dressed in the finest of garments, whilst supporting a fine moustache that added to his eeriness.

She immediately put her head down knowing her place around those with more class than her. “Nothing, my Lord.”

“Lord Baelish,” he took her hand and kissed it.

A million things rushed through her head, and each one ended with run. She wasn’t used to being around new people, and she hated the way her body reacted to it. Daenerys was confident around new faces but Sansa wanted to flee the moment she lays eyes on them.

Sansa pulled her hand away then buried it in her lap. She made an obvious point to turn away from him, hoping that he’d understand she wished to be left alone.

“Such beautiful hair.”

She glanced at him.

“Like fire.”

She didn’t blush. His compliment made her feel sick to her stomach.  _ I want Dany. _

“Has anyone ever told you that you look like the Queen—“

“Fuck off, Baelish,” a hand clamped down on the skinny man’s shoulder.

Sansa couldn’t stop herself from gasping. This man was large, scary and angry. All of those things she should’ve been afraid of, but no fear consumed her. He wore a plain mask that covered the left side of his face. She could tell by his appearance that he was a royal guard, yet everything about him screamed danger.

“Hound, shouldn’t you be protecting the royal family?”

Sansa got up from the concrete fence with anger on her face. How could this Lord call a knight a dog? The man looked capable of ripping Lord Baelish in half, and a part of her wished he would do something to get him to leave.

“The King spotted you sneaking off after the young Lady,” he growled, and his eyes never moved to hers. “Wanted me to make sure you weren’t up to no good  — and it looks like he had every right to be concerned, Little Finger.”

“Why don’t we ask the Lady?” Lord Baelish turned to her with a smile. “My Lady.”

Sansa watched the large man’s eyes finally move to her own, and she paused at the sight of brown and grey mixed together. The roughness of his face held no resemblance to Lord Ramsay’s soft one. She’d witnessed that face contort in anger yet still somehow look youthful, and it scared her that someone that would be deemed handsome was so cruel.

A blush creeped onto her pale cheeks and she sat back down. “I’m no Lady…” she hesitantly looked around. “I just want to be alone.”

“You heard her,” Lord Baelish was pulled away hard, and she watched him stalk back through the balcony doors.

Sansa played with her fingers. She felt nervous now that they were alone, not because he scared her, but because she’d never been around a man that didn’t have the intention to hurt her. She was awaiting to be let down by the knight before her.

“Thank-you, ser.”

She felt his eyes move over her body. “I just followed the King’s orders.”

“Oh…” she lowered her eyes.

“You aren’t supposed to be here,” he placed his hand on his sword and her body stilled.

Would he hurt her? How could he possibly know?

“W-What do you mean?” her body started to shake. “Please, don’t hurt me!”

She heard him take a few steps forward and she prepared for the incoming hit, but he lowered himself down onto one knee. “I’m not going to hurt you, little bird. Is that what you think of me?”

“I-I don’t know you,” she refused to look at him.

_ He’s too close. _

“What’s your name?” there was a softness to his voice now, and she slowly looked up at him. “I’m Ser Sandor Clegane.”

“Cat.”

“Excuse me?”

“Cat, my name is Cat.”

“Named after the Queen?”

“Who?”

He laughed. “You really aren’t supposed to be here.”

There was no mockery on his face, so she smiled herself. “I’m not educated on the royals.

“You aren’t missing out on much, little bird.”

_ Little Bird, I like the sound of it.  _ The more she looked at his face, the more obvious it became that he was hiding a scar beneath his mask. It edged out from beneath the mask, and a part of it had taken over where some of his beard should've been.

“I’m only here because my friend has always dreamed of coming to a Ball,” she said. “I don’t much like crowds.”

His face softened more. “I don’t believe that a woman like you doesn’t always go to parties like this.”

“I prefer the quiet,” she realised he was still kneeling. “Sit with me.”

“Is that a command, my Lady?”

“I’m not a Lady, but I would enjoy some company tonight.”

He got to his feet and she had to tilt her neck back to look at him.  _ Gods, he’s tall.  _ He sat down next to her, and she angled her body so she could be closer to him. “Are you allowed to take a break from your job?”

“I’m the Commander.”

“Wow…” she forgot herself for a few moments as she took in his appearance. The white cloak and black parts of his armour add to his fearsome image. She was surprised that he hadn’t scared her or shouted at her yet.  _ Lord Bolton says that I have a horrible voice. _

Her body started to warm up in a way it hadn’t before, so she averted her gaze to the floor. “It’s rather warm tonight.”

“The clouds are about to release snow onto us, and you think it’s warm?”

“Sorry.”

“Why are you apologising?”

Sansa rubbed her arm. “Like you said, I’m not supposed to be here. I come from a place where I must always obey and apologise.”

He grumbled something under his breath that she couldn’t understand. “Who?”

Sansa smiled sadly. “I cannot tell you, ser, otherwise you’ll know who I am.”

He grunted. “So your true name isn’t Cat?”

“No, ser.”

“And will you tell me why the secrecy?”

She shook her head. Of course she couldn’t say anything. No matter how she went about it, Lord Bolton had legal right to her, and he’d said many times that her escape would result in her death. There had been times when she contemplated letting him take her head, because it seemed like a better idea than suffering all the time.

Sansa stared at his face again. Her eyes wanted the mask gone so she could see what lay beneath. She’d never really thought a man to be handsome, but something inside her believed this man would be when he removed the mask.

“You have a scar.”

He stiffened. “Aye.”

“Can I see?”

He scoffed. “Pretty girl like you don’t want to see it.”

“I wouldn’t have asked if you weren’t already so handsome.”

Sansa’s mouth clamped shut. Never had anything so sappy come out of her mouth before, not even when she complimented Daenerys. She’d just been taken away by how easy it was to talk to a man; nothing like this has ever happened to her before, ever.

The royal knight froze with a pointed glare. He stared deep into her eyes trying to find any sort of lie in them. She wondered what type of life he had led if he didn’t believe himself to be handsome.

“Don’t toy with me—”

“I have no reason to lie,” she said. “I do not believe myself to be pretty, yet I have to accept that you think I am?”

“Surely you own a mirror?”

She chuckled. “No, I don’t have one in my personal possessions, and if I do catch a glimpse, it’s only ever rarely.”

He got to his feet and looked down at her. “Is it a cruel life that you live?”

“It’s unfair, but sometimes I think that someone else would’ve ended up in my place. And I wouldn’t wish what I’m going through on anyone.”

“Run away.”

“I have nothing to my name,” she stood up so the tips of their toes were almost touching. “My friend tells me that we’ll die out on the road.”

“There’s plenty of jobs in Winterfell.”

“I don’t enjoy large crowds,” she reminded him. “I’m sure things will work out one way or another. However, I go wherever my friend goes.”

“And this friend was the one you arrived with?”

“You saw me?”

“Aye, couldn’t miss you.”

She felt like her face was going to explode. She breathed out a blissful sigh, then returned her gaze to his. “Your appearance doesn’t give away your smooth words.”

“I’m afraid I ain’t usually like this,” he cleared his throat. “Never talked like that before tonight.”

“Well, I like this side of you,” she bit her bottom lip. “I’ve never spoken to a man properly before. Especially not a knight.”

His eyes moved over her face, following every movement and twitch it made. She was slightly embarrassed that he could see her bright blushing cheeks.

“I apologise that I’m your first experience.”

“Don’t be,” she whispered. “I’ve thoroughly enjoyed it.”

They stood in silence for a while, the pair kept catching one another staring, and Sansa felt herself growing flustered and insecure. Their conversation may just be that, a conversation, but she wondered if it meant something more.

“Can I see your face?” She asked.

“It ain’t nothin’ special.”

“To you it might not be, but I’d like to see what you look like,” she reached up to remove her own then remembered that the witch had charmed it to conceal her true identity.

She glanced around the balcony, praying silently that Lord Bolton wasn’t around. Thankfully, her prayers were answered. She pulled at the ribbon and carefully removed her black mask. She wanted to see the man beyond the mask after he’d been so kind to her.

Sansa smiled up at him but it paused at the sight of his face. The horror was obvious and she retreated back into her shell.  _ I’m ugly.  _ She hurried to put it back on with a quivering lip. 

“Wait—don’t cry,” he cupped her elbow and reached up to remove her mask. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to stare.”

She could tell there was something he wasn’t telling her. “I apologise for being so repulsive.”

“NO—Seven Hells, no, little bird,” he tossed her mask to the floor. “You’re beautiful, beyond pretty. I just didn’t expect it.”

She still didn’t believe him. However, she found the confidence to reach up behind his head and tug at the silk holding his mask to his face. She bit her bottom lip as she revealed the scar to herself. The skin was destroyed beyond repair, but it didn’t take away from his handsomeness it just made it more rough.

A small smile grew on her face. “Still handsome,” she whispered.

They were close now. Sansa could feel his warm breath on her face. She slowly reached up her hand to touch his scar, and he inhaled sharply from the touch. It became obvious that no one had touched it before, at least not in the tender way Sansa was touching him.

“I’d say you’re blind.”

“I can see clearly,” she stroked his marred cheekbone with her thumb. “If I have to believe I’m beautiful, you have to believe you’re handsome.”

He hummed in response, and she enjoyed the deep grumble that came from his chest. She’d never had the chance to be so close to a man before, willingly. He radiated safety, and she was positive that it wasn’t because he was a knight. There was something in his eyes that promised her that she wouldn’t come to harm if he was around.

**DING DONG. DING DONG. DING DONG.**

“Oh, no!” she stumbled away from him.

She didn’t think about anything but the sound of the bells. She had to get away from Winterfell, fast. So, without another glance his way, she took off running back into the ballroom and up the stairs. She ran through the double doors and collided with an out of breath Daenerys. Her cheeks were flushed, but the panic was true on her face. She grabbed her hand and they took off running into the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank-you for such a lovely response to the first chapter! Don't worry, the next one will be focused on Daenerys at the Ball, then will lead back to them running off into the night.


End file.
